Heart of Steel, Heart of War
by Xy-Trig
Summary: Sort-of sequel to "The Scarlet Queen and the Rose Cross", if you've read it. More violence.
1. Heart of Steel, Heart of War

_Death Record #405: Heart of Steel, Heart of War._

"I saw that." I said, facing the woman before me. "Don't think that just because I am only bound to watch over the dead, I cannot watch the living as well."

"High and mighty words coming from you, mere pawn in the celestial game." She replied. Completely shrouded in darkness of her own creation, I could not discern a bit of her; I only knew that my partner in conversation was female, and that she did not want her identity disclosed.

"Of course, in one of the few lands where gods walk amongst men, the game exists." I said. "But what of outside? As you speak to me, you must be feeling your power slowly leaving you, do you not?" I asked.

The Death Record, this mansion-prison that had housed me for months now, was officially neutral territory, allowing all walks of life and existence to sustain their being. However, as I had recently learned, this was a privilege extended by the Watcher, rather than an ironclad right. A privilege I was currently denying to my visitor.

"Do you really think that I do not know what you are doing?" She asked, her voice practically dripping with condescension, the patronizing tone rolling right off her tongue, perfectly natural. "I have strength to waste; far more than maintaining myself in this pitiful excuse for a plane could ever require."

I merely held my gaze and said nothing. She continued.

"I have no more time to waste." And with that, she disappeared, the darkness consuming her and spiriting her away.

I shook my head. I would never get used to this.

Even though I was technically immortal, undying, and ever-young to boot, I would never understand why those with power acted as they did.

Perhaps old habits from the days when I was painfully, vulnerably alive died hard. I stood up and looked at the table in front of me.

"Well, despite her attitude, she knows how to enjoy being a guest." I said, eyeing the teacup I had placed before my guest at the beginning of our talk. All of the liquid had been sucked out of it, more perfect than any hard drinker could do, even by tipping the bottle upside-down and licking it clean. This was a complete absence of any sort of material besides the cup, which was inedible. It was as if instead of "eating", as it were, my guest had been "devouring anything that would give her sustenance". Of course, she could not take more than could be offered, as I had full control of this plane, but she had taken all that I had given, thoroughly and efficiently, with nothing left.

"Such is the wrath of a being that has not known relish." I said to myself. "This should be evidence enough."

I produced a crystal; a piece of crystallized energy that had recorded the previous meeting with my guest, every nuance, noise, and moment of it, and could fit in the palm of my hand. I headed over to the writing table, on which I had already prepared the heading of a letter.

I sat down at the work table, the familiar softness of the seat under me and the table that was at the perfect height for writing comforting me less than they usually did, and for one simple reason.

No matter how much I wanted to do things, it all came down to the boss. The boss who could be neither reasoned with nor threatened, the boss that held my existence in the palm of his or her hand.

The boss to whom I was writing now, enclosing the crystalline record of the meeting in a short summary of events.

On the Death Record past, a larger, equally crystalline copy of which I was sending along with the letter, about a size of a fist compared with the kernel of corn that was the previous meeting.

On what had happened after, the cheerful life and the people that fought to defend it.

On the things that had destroyed that idyll, and smashed the peaceful world that was already bathed in blood.

And on the ending of Death Record #405, the tale of a mercenary who found "the job", the one that mercenaries are willing to risk their lives for, the one that transcends money and power, the one that stirs their hearts and reminds them that they once fought for more than money.

I barely felt the time pass by as I put pen to paper, making sure not to miss a thing. My wrist ached, but my hand moved on its own.

Perhaps it was the desire to tell the story. Perhaps it was the desire to destroy the villain, the villain that yet lived to destroy the peace. Perhaps it was a desire to save the people, those whose stories I had read and those whom I had grown to care for.

Or perhaps it was simply my foolish belief that those I believed "evil" should receive their just desserts, and those I believed "good", a reprieve from the horrors and suffering that composed life itself.

I folded the letter into an envelope and sent it. There was no address; I was the only one who could send to that person anyway. I turned to the common room, which held the fireplace and a number of chintz sofas. I had made a habit of constantly changing the furnishings, as there wasn't much else to do in the downtime between Death Records, and home improvement with a homely bent seemed to help the guests get more comfortable with the fact that they were dead. As such, there was a chandelier above the sofas, giving off a warm, soft incandescent yellow light.

There sat my other guest, who was the victim of this tragedy.

"Are you ready, Felius?" I asked of my other guest, who was brooding on the chintz sofa in front of the fireplace. He was taller than me, his hair black, skin white, Caucasian-like, and his eyes brown and quite large.

He didn't respond. I clicked my tongue in mock reproach, although I knew what he was going through. It was my business to know, after all.

"Well, the letter's been sent. There's nothing more you can do." I said, sitting down next to him. That, at least, got some response out of him. He turned his head towards me, his eyes meeting mine.

"There's nothing more you can do." He repeated, looking right at me, his eyes staring into mine. "Usually, I'd be happy to hear those words, because it means either a paycheck or a load off my back." His voice was monotone, deep, slow, and brooding, that of a man who had gone before his time, a voice of regrets. In that same slow voice, he continued "Not today, though."

He turned away from me, and I sensed that this conversation was over. I knew the signs. He didn't want to face his disappearance just yet. He didn't want to die without knowing his mission was completed. Arguing with these types was usually less than worthless.

I stood up, sighed, and went back to my own room. The most recent Death Record, the one of his demise, was right there, the paper probably still warm from my frantic scribbling. On the cover, it simply said:

_Death Record #405: Heart of Steel, Heart of War._

Well, there didn't seem to be a better way to pass the time. I took the book, lay down on my bed, opened it, and lazily began to read.

And as I did, it was as if Felius was telling the story again, every detail forming a picture in my head, like a play, only nobody had to project their voice for anyone else to hear.


	2. Modern Hunter

I am a modern hunter. Since there are few beasts that people wish to hunt for game anymore, what with all the conservationists and the sudden public opinion against big game hunting, a modern hunter has to chase after smaller game.

_Smaller, but no less dangerous._ I thought. The rats that infested the world could easily be every bit as wily as big game, and they could easily adapt their strategies to any opponent.

This one, however, was firmly in my grasp.

The time, 12 midnight. The streets were dark, and to blend in with them I had chosen a black trench coat, half-open to reveal an all-black shirt underneath, black baggy jeans, and high-cut boots that were, you guessed it, black.

Just so you know, I don't always dress like this. It blends in with the night, and it's also very intimidating when I come face-to-face with the target.

I already knew where I was going. The target was in the basement of the fourth apartment building on the right side of this street. It was a simple job; a murder for a man who had seen too much. I counted off the buildings, identical as they were, and reached the fourth one. It was a faux-European house that was quite large for the area it was in.

_Drug money._ I thought. _I'm probably just the hired gun for the coverup._ I thought.

Without a second thought, I visualized all the power in my body moving towards my shoulder. I rearranged myself to put my right shoulder to the wall and stepped back.

I took a breath, keeping my visualization in mind. With practiced technique I bashed my shoulder into the door, knocking it clean off of its hinges and sending me charging in for two steps before I stopped and returned to a normal standing position. I drew a knife from within my trench coat, a combat knife of the kind used by military forces. I was sure that whomever it had been had heard the attack. The basement was at the end of the corridor, but I wasn't quite going to go there yet.

_Time for the first test._ I thought, turning to the corridor on my right. There was a door there, along with three more along this wall and two on the right. I focused again on my shoulder and smashed it down. The room was a kitchen, a top-of-the line set much like cooking shows on TV had set up beautifully all over the room.

I consulted the wall clock. Ten minutes past twelve. I would wait twenty before the second test.

This was a simple trick, designed to make the man in the basement think I could take my time to kill him, plus the idea that I would be waiting for him. From there, there would be three possible outcomes.

The first, and in my mind, most likely, would be that he would not come out of the basement, and that he would have to be rooted out. That would be no problem, as I had prepared a bulletproof jacket under my trench coat, and I was confident in my ability to take the target in hand-to-hand.

The second possibility would be that he would think I was some random burglar and check. I found this unlikely, as I had bashed down the door and made more noise than any burglar would make, but if he was dumb enough to fall for this he wouldn't be ready for a fight, and I could drop him easy.

The third possibility would be that he was just preparing to come out of the basement with a flashlight and a gun, ready to shoot whatever assassin came for him. He had proven to be more aggressive than previously thought, hiring out guns to take out the first assassin sent after him, who had been killed. His men had had no such luck with me, so I thought this would also be a likely recourse.

_Ten minutes._ I thought. _Ten more minutes before I come in there._

In the last ten minutes, I had heard soft thumps, like footfalls, from the basement below me, leading me to believe that the floors were not very thick. I moved onto the bed, better to avoid having the floor cut out from under me. It was an unlikely form of attack, but better safe than sorry. Finally, the thumps subsided, and I could only assume that he was moving closer to the basement door.

The next activity came from the end of the corridor, from the door to the basement, where three shots rang out. They weren't very loud, probably rounds from a compact pistol or one with an improvised suppressor. This probably meant he was coming out, in which case, I had to move now, in order to execute the next part of my plan.

I didn't waste any time. I quickly stormed across the hall and bashed open the other door. Quickly switching up my steps, I stepped silently back into the room I had come from.

This changed my situation of his knowing in which room I was exactly, and it tensed him up even more. The adding of unknown factors could only do one of two things.

The first, and less likely for the target's personality, was that he would back down and stay in the basement, after loudly declaring his decision to engage me in a straight fight. For an arrogant man like him, who would match fire with fire, this was not a likely option, not only because of his pride, but also because of the unknown skill of the enemy, which he would estimate to be quite low at first, being his first encounter with an unknown enemy. For insurance, I had already audibly smashed down his doors, in blatant disrespect of his property.

The second possibility, and the one I was hoping for, was that he would come out swinging, bringing a gun and flashlight to the fight. In that scenario, he would be in the corridor, and he wouldn't know which of the two broken-down doors in this abandoned unit I would come from.

That split-second of hesitation he would have would be his downfall. All I had to do was not to mess up the charge. I tightened my grip on my knife, holding it in a reverse grip for a killer stab, and quieted my breathing, waiting. At this point in time deception was critical. If he knew where I was, it would be the end of it all. If he happened to shoot at the unit closest to the door, on the left side of the door and the right from where he would come, in such a way that he would manage to hit the corner of the room closest to him, it would all be over.

I heard a step. The stairs from the basement were steep, so he would have a hard time walking up them silently. I heard another step. I gritted my teeth. He continued to step forward, slowly and methodically. I could practically see him in my mind's eye, walking down the corridor with his flashlight held high in his left hand, the pistol he had used to shoot down the door in the other. He came closer, his steps gradually getting louder. One after the other, they came down the corridor. As he came closer, I slowly began to shift myself towards where the door of the room used to be. Maintaining silence, I focused on his slow, methodical steps, slowly approaching the corner of the room.

The moment before going in through a door you know the enemy is watching is the absolute worst. Willingly throwing oneself into the line of fire is about as counter-intuitive as it gets, but it's exactly for that reason that it works, because it's completely unexpected.

I sucked in a deep breath, one much like the one I had sucked in before bashing down the door to the house. Visualizing my body's strength flowing to my legs, I was ready. Gritting my teeth, I continued to visualize power flowing to my legs until the target stepped at a distance approximately corresponding to that of the corner of the room.

_Begin._ The word was like a trigger, and although it wasn't said out loud, it acted as a trigger for my legs, blasting me around the corner, through the door, and charging at the target before he could blink. He had barely any distance from the door, and luckily, he had been pointing his gun at the door to his left, the one that did not lead to the room I was in.

He got in a reaction shot, which luckily went wild, as he had not yet gotten a good bead on me. The sound rang in my ears as I ran forward.

In a moment I had planted my knife in his gut, pulled it out, and stabbed it again into his neck. That was two fatal blows, for sure. I could leave the knife in, it was disposable as well as had no fingerprints, for I had worn gloves. I turned around and flipped open a cell phone. I merely pressed the call button, then tossed it to the side. It was a disposable, and the receiver would immediately know what the call was about.

"A job well done, I might say." I said, while walking nonchalantly out the front door. I stood in the cool night air, before the smell of blood could clog my nostrils. Without missing a beat, I turned to the right and began to walk down the darkened midnight street.

The time was 12:15 AM. Not many would call an assassin at that hour, and few would have the impeccable timing to call one right after he finished a job.

I should have known that it was going to be a weird job the moment the call came through at this time of day, and from Rosie, no less. Raising the cell to my face, I hit the call button.

"This had better be good, Rosie." I said. "Your family name doesn't quite carry as much weight since your uncle went and got snuffed."

"Very funny, Stain." He replied, reprising my play on his last name. "I've got a job for you."

"More government business that needs to be cleaned up?" I asked. "Teaching me the whole visualization trick really nailed you good return-on-investment, didn't it?"

"Not when Interpol is tied up trying to pin you down, rather than pinning down the real scumbags." He replied.

"It's my business." He said, emphasizing that it was his. "Come over to headquarters. I'll explain there, if you're interested." He cut the line. I closed the connection and put the phone back in my pocket. Behind the black motorcycle helmet, I smiled.

One of the biggest members of GSG9, Leopold von Rosenkreuzstillete himself, hiring a common mercenary to do his bidding, could only lead to very interesting times and very good pay.

If there is one thing a good mercenary loves, it's the thrill of the hunt.

I began to walk towards the airport. Berlin was thousands of miles away, and I wasn't planning on walking all the way there.


	3. A Fool's Beginning

Leopold von Rosenkreuzstillete had already sent a car for his guest, the assassin. Knowing his name, it was very easy to find his flight.

"Felius Stein. I never thought I'd have to call you in again." He said quietly, alone in his office, behind the large wooden desk that had once belonged to his uncle. "Truly, fate has some strange things in front of me."

Leopold had aged little, but much had changed around him in the past year. His cousin's marriage into vampire stock had shaken up the policies of the family quite a bit, and effectively denied their purpose for the past hundreds of years.

That happy occasion of a wedding had not taken much to create. His uncle Wolfgang had always been considered crazy, a fanatic, old but not all there. With that gotten out of the way, most of the members of the family agreed to attend the ceremony, and all was done.

The problem now, though, was that they were looking for a purpose. The Rosenkreuzstilletes, bound tightly together by a goal once, were now nothing more than another family, an old, successful family with no purpose. This was something Leopold could do nothing about, but also something that he knew something had to be done about.

_United we stand. Divided we fall._

He frowned. These things had forced him to call in an outsider in order to do a job he would much rather have done himself. He should be there, on the other side.

A knock came on the door and his secretary walked through it.

"The car is here for you, with your guest." She said.

"Good. I'm going. I'll be out until the meeting at four."

"Don't be late." She said, and turned around. Leopold smiled as he followed her out the door, his secretary digressing to her own cubicle.

_Ice-cold at work, that girl. She does gigs with a punk rock band on the weekends, though._ Leopold thought, remembering the one time he had come across her in one of the many bars in the city. The look on her face had been priceless.

The elevator opened, and Leopold walked out through the lobby, the front door, into the car, and back into contact with one of the few people who could make him very uncomfortable.

I sat there, looking at Leopold without the barrier of the black motorcycle helmet. I had already retrieved all my weapons from my luggage, and if I had wanted to I could have killed him right now, though it wouldn't have happened without one hell of a fight.

"Black hair. Eyes changed from brown to sea-green, just like my energy type. Did you really need to have someone else pick me up and check me out?" I asked him as he got in. "You could have come yourself; saved us both some trouble."

"I'm busy." He replied. "As always."

"Yeah, yeah, bigshot in the family and all that." I said, waving my hand in front of him as he sat next to me, closing the door behind him.

"Take us to the house." He told the driver. "You know which one." As the car began to roll forward in the traffic, he turned to me.

"I can't give you any of the details of the job here, but you have to swear, right now, that you will not tell anyone what I'm going to show you." He said. "Besides the fact that nobody would believe you anyway, this is a secret known only to von Rosenkreuzstillete, and if it were not for the circumstances, I would have kept it so." He said, glaring right at me. His eyes had a glint behind them, the kind that told me immediately that this was no time for flippancy. He added on a phrase that made it all too clear.

"And I am prepared to do anything to keep the secret completely secure." His voice was toneless.

"Death threats." I said. "You've gotten tougher, Leopold."

"Having something you want to protect with your life does that to you." He replied.

The rest of the trip proceeded in silence, until we reached a suburban area with large houses, and one on the edge of the developed area, with the back being a forest, not huge, but large enough to give a woodland feeling. We got out of the car and Leopold began to lead me towards the woods in the back. As we passed the two-storey house, I looked at the back of it.

There was a window, and right next to it, a pipe, easily enough for someone to slide down it and get out of the house.

_Getting out of there would've been no problem if you were prepared for the cold. The windows don't even have grills on them._ I thought to myself as we walked in some more. Leopold led me in through the forest, and into a clearing.

I knew, the moment I entered that clearing that the world had changed. It was subtle, nothing like a complete destruction of everything I knew, rather, it was a sublimation into a new world order. Beyond the trees, I could already see a lake that I was sure was not on any map of that suburban area near Berlin we had come into this place through. Leopold looked at me, his smug face taking in my badly hidden shock at the world around me.

"Remember when I told you about magic?" He asked.

"Yeah. You told me it was all gone." I said. I had a feeling I already knew what he was going to say, but I waited for him to say it anyway.

"This is where it's all gone. Welcome to Gensokyo." He said, taking me to the bank of the lake and stretching out his hand beyond it. My view followed his hand over the lake, before I saw a mansion on an island, in the middle of it all, standing solitary in the middle of the water.

"And that's the Scarlet Devil Mansion, and the site of your next job. Now you know why I had to keep this so secret."

It took me a moment to realize that he was actually taking names from one of the many computer games I played between jobs. That game was absolutely impossible, but it was fun. And now he was naming places from the game like they were real. Since I was sure he had never played the games, and told me so himself, the only possibility was that the game was real.

One of my biggest beliefs was that a mercenary should always be prepared to deal with what is in front of him, no matter how absurd. This is one of the times that belief has served me well.

"Come to think of it, how are we even going to get there?" I asked Leopold. He smiled and grabbed my hand.

"Hold on tight." He said, with a grin on his face that I knew could lead to no good.

We were flying through the air a second later. And let me tell you, without the comfortingly uncomfortable seats of a passenger airline, the chopping of a helicopter's rotor and the metal beneath your feet or legs, or any of the things that would normally tell a person they were now able to fly, flying is scary.

But damn if I was going to let Leopold get any sort of reaction from me, so I grit my teeth and watched the terrain slipping by below us. As I stared at the shining water, touched by the light of the sun on the waves, I had a premonition.

I would face a challenge greater than any than I had ever faced before, probably even unimaginably dangerous.

And I knew, because of that premonition, no matter what happened, I had to take this job.

The lure of the challenge was too much. No magical, supernatural, or incomprehensible power was going to stop me now.

When we landed on the island, the first thing Leopold asked me was "Do you think you can do this?"

To which I jumped up into the air, and, to my own surprise, began to float, as if I was standing on a platform in midair. Realizing this, I crossed my arms and grinned at Leopold, like a child who had just gotten candy.

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, before just thinking about coming back to the ground and having it happen, feet to ground in a second. He smiled, but it was the kind of smile an experienced older soldier would give a green recruit. Without a word, he headed for the gate.

I would have followed him, but then I saw something. Leopold had apparently completely ignored her. She was standing at the gate she was apparently meant to be guarding, but she also looked like she was asleep standing up.

One of the things I always prided myself on as a mercenary was that I always delivered value for money. And as much as I tried not to force it on other people, I might as well look good in front of my future employers and show it off. Raising my voice, I issued a challenge that would probably be heard across the lake.

"Get up, lazy gate guard! At least pretend to do your job and challenge the guy you've never seen before!"

Leopold sighed and leaned on one of the gate's pillars. _Yes, this is going to be fun,_ His expression seemed to say, as he looked at me and the gate guard from the side. _This is going to be fun indeed._

I was told this later, but apparently, the resident mage of the house had pulled up a magical watcher's array for her to watch the fight with her master, so they would indeed end up seeing the result of this conflict.

The guardian seemed to stir, and after blinking a few time, looked at me.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked, as she straightened herself out. "I was asleep."

There are no words to express what I was feeling at that point. No matter how good of a guard she is, even if she could hold off the armies of the world with her pinky finger alone, she did not shirk duty, in my opinion. And she just flipped me off while half-asleep.

"I said," I said, putting emphasis on the first two words, "that you should actually pay attention to the people who try to get in through the gate you're guarding!" I shouted. "That's it, I'm beating some sense into you!"

I stepped forward to lunge. Adrenaline was taking over my body, the power I normally could only use while focusing surging through me with force beyond any I had felt before. She had finally understood, and looked perfectly awake to boot, rushing at me with all she had as well.

We met in the middle, my punch impacting onto her arm. She grinned.

"You've got some fight in you." She said. "Let me see just how much!" She twisted her arm, trying to wrap it around mine. I pulled my arm back, not to avoid hers, but to catch it. She spotted the move, snapping her elbows shut.

"I've got more than that!" I yelled, ramming my left fist into her gut and wrenching my right hand free. She stepped back, putting her hands in front of her head, her stance on guard.

"Time to stop going easy on you." She said, a daring look in her eyes, telling me to attack. I cracked my knuckles, as many movies depicted it, hand to fist, and then put my arms up.

"Let's fight for real, then."

We charged over the meadow that surrounded the mansion. Out of the corner of my eye, Leopold was smiling, nodding to himself. He was sure he had made the right decision.

_I am so taking this job._ I thought, as my opponent closed in on me.

At the time, I didn't realize exactly what I had entered, but I didn't care.

How deep the folly of the inexperienced truly is.


	4. A Fool's Determination

A left chop. Her tenth strike of the battle. I slid in the opposite direction, allowing her fingers to brush within an inch of my nose. Without any hesitation, I swept with my right leg, which she immediately saw and jumped to avoid it. Twirling around, I saw her have a punch ready for me.

There was nothing to do but be hit, and although I had already taken a few hits, those were all glancing shots. This one went straight to the ribcage, winding me hard and probably putting me down on the floor, if I wasn't in this strange world with its crazy regeneration. I staggered, but did not fall.

As it was, it was as much an opportunity as a solid hit to me. The exploding pain in my chest was nothing compared to the opportunity of her outstretched fist, and there was only one thought I had now.

_Win. _With only that one thought, I went low, faster than I had this whole fight.

This had always been my strength as a mercenary and as a soldier, when I was hurt, rather than growing weaker, I became stronger, more defiant, more determined. In that sense I was a masochist, pain allowing me to focus and change the situation in a heartbeat. My right fist shot forward to her gut, connecting immediately.

_Follow it up!_ My instincts screamed at me as I felt impact, and I gladly obliged, throwing my left higher towards her neck. She, already recovering, grabbed my fist, stopping it with her palm.

_Perfect._ I thought, and I released energy through that fist, opening my fingers.

And accompanying that opening of fingers was a blast of energy that sent the gate guard back. I smiled. Leopold had taught me how to manifest my energy to boost my bodily performance, this projection of force simply being an extension of that lesson. She was staggered, just like I had been when she put that fist in my chest, but unlike her, I wasn't one to give ground.

I kicked off the ground. She held hers, arms in front of her face in a guarding position, ready to guard against my strike-heavy style, which was sure to send another punch her way.

Or so she thought. I stretched my right arm out, bending my elbow to come in front of my face. She suddenly registered exactly what I was going to do.

I rammed into her. The ram itself did no damage, but I was still moving to the right, deflecting my body to follow my right arm's elbow.

My left hand found her shoulder. I sucked in a breath.

And fired a blast of power right into her right arm. The backblast from the attack sent me spinning the other way immediately, my right arm speeding forward to the back of her head as I fell away from her red hair and green attire, towards her long, snow-white legs.

_Finish it. A technical fighter ends it all with a single blow._

A gentle slap. My back hit the green of the meadow soon after. She turned towards me as I was on the floor, ragged, panting form the exertion. She didn't seem haggard in the slightest, but I knew she was tired too, from the sweat causing her skin to glisten. She knew as well as I that that blow could have been devastating. I grinned.

It was insane, really, I didn't know why I grinned even though I failed to take down my target. Perhaps it was the laid-back, totally relaxed atmosphere of the place, the whole shebang being too nice to waste just by getting mad. Come on, look at the sky. It's blue, freakin' beautiful. The grass is soft, dewy, practically a carpet of comfortable cold! The air's as fresh as the countryside!

In hindsight, it was very clear, but I didn't understand it myself at the time. As if she understood exactly what had happened, though, she nodded and stuck out her hand. It was soft, unexpected for someone who could throw out insanely powerful attacks with such abandon. And she was tall, taller than I was. The star on her hat, which I had to look up to see, and the slit dress made it very clear who this was.

"Come on up. It was worth waking up for this fight." She said, and I took her hand. She yanked me up, barely hurt by our exchange.

"I'd go for more, but it seems the mistress wants to see you." She said. "She'll be the one to give you a proper thrashing."

And then she put on a smile that could light up a night sky. I did not see that coming in any way. I couldn't help but smile back.

"I suppose I'd better get in there." I said. I turned around and showed her peace sign. "See you around."

The boy was good, she had to admit, but he was but a child compared to the opponents he would probably have to face. The gate guardian walked back to her position, Leopold still leaning against the gate. The child was beside her.

"Go in ahead." She said. "Remi'll be expecting you, and she's never been one for patience."

He nodded, and left. Immediately, Leopold stepped forward.

"What do you think?" He asked me. I could only reply honestly.

"I don't like it. Even if he is that good, he doesn't know what he's up against. He's not prepared."

"Bah, he doesn't need that." Leopold replied. "Even among Special Forces, he was always the stubborn one, no retreat, no surrender." He continued. "We had to kick him out of basic training because of that."

"He hurt himself going all-out?" I asked, and he nodded. I saw it in him for sure, when I gave him that punch that should've floored him, he just came back harder. "He's going to die here."

"That simple idiot was born different." Leopold said. "Most everyone has something they're attached to, people they grew up with and lived with and would be loath to part with." He continued. "That guy, though… he's different from us."

"Yeah, I noticed. He took that play fight damn seriously after I hit him." The tall guardian replied. "I know that type. He's going to die early."

"He knows that. I just gave him something to die for." The soldier before me replied, a little slower than his normally quick manner of speech. "I'm going." He said, and I nodded. I closed the gate after him, leaned on the gate, and watched the sky.

_Lots of things just pass you by when all you do is stand at the gate. _She thought to herself. _But all you can do is watch._

I returned to my position.


	5. Meeting the Boss

"So this is it, huh?" I asked, standing a few meters in front of the mansion, tricked out in the way so common to the larger and older houses for the rich of Britain in the Victorian Era. But that didn't matter to me.

I just walked right up to the door and knocked thrice. Nobody answered yet.

"They like to take their time." Leopold said. "Just because you get past the gate doesn't necessarily mean you're friendly."

"Can't argue with that." I replied. "Doesn't seem like she takes her job too seriously, though."

"Her mistress is a lot tougher than she is, so she usually doesn't have to." Leopold replied with a shrug. "Why they even have a guard if that's the case is beyond me."

"It's for the image." I replied. "Like how drug lords and gangsters like to have women at parties and buy rounds for the house." Leopold smirked.

"Only when they're not about to be caught." He replied, and I had to laugh at that one. "Or killed."

The denizens of the house chose that moment to send someone to open the door. She was a maid, which I only knew because of the outfit. In any other situation, I would have called her a nervous office lady. She carried herself with an uneasy stature, keeping her head up and her back straight, but looking at her face, framed with raven-black hair that extended to her shoulders, it was clear that she was nervous. Her glasses were somewhat askew, her cheeks slightly trembling. All in all, she was professional but nervous, getting there but not to the point of confidence.

Oh, and translucent fairy wings coming out of her shoulders. I shouldn't forget those.

_Aren't the fairy wings supposed to make me nervous?_ I asked myself without speaking. I pretended to be bored, looking at the scarlet-red wall to my left, hoping that she would get herself together and do her job soon. Leopold smirked. I had never been good with nervous girls, or nervous people in general.

I heard a deep breath from my right and a mostly confident but slightly shaky voice saying "Come in, please."

I turned towards her and nodded. "No need to be so stiff." She walked off to the left, a little quickly for a normal pace, and I followed, Leopold coming in after me.

_Is she just a fast walker?_ I asked myself. I looked at her back, in profile, paying attention to the way she stepped. Besides the translucent fairy wings, which started from the middle of her back and stretched outward to obscure her shoulder blades and not much else, she was only a bit shorter than me, so she shouldn't have walked much faster. I noticed that her movements seemed deliberate, which confirmed what I already knew; this was not her normal walking pace. Now I wanted to find out why. Barely looking at the old-school braziers on the walls, holding flames that kept the corridors lighted, the paintings and artfully decorated columns that made the walls that much easier to look at, and the wooden doors we passed. Leopold was hanging back a bit. It was probably because he knew I was about to do something stupid and pointless, and he didn't want any part of it.

_Stick in the mud._ I thought to myself, speeding up my gait to catch up with our fairy maid guide. _It's the little things like this that keep life bearable. After all, can't expect not to go mad when you're thinking of all the people you killed all the time._ Taking a breath, I drew even with her and matched her pace, pretending to not notice her and just look forward. This would prevent her from making any sudden movements and messing up my observations.

At this point, there were two possible outcomes. If she was extremely nervous, she would walk faster, trying to avoid eye contact. In contrast, if she wasn't that nervous, she would check my intentions and wonder what I was doing, drawing even with someone who was guiding him.

I didn't know much about the target, but from the amount of time she had taken to compose herself, which had really only been a few seconds, she would try to figure out why I had drawn even first, before taking any rash or different actions. Casting a furtive glance towards the maid, for a single second, I ascertained that she hadn't noticed that I had drawn even.

_Well, this is unexpected._ I thought to myself._ I didn't think someone so nervous could turn into an airhead so quickly._ I took another glance, this one a bit longer than the last, but still moving only my eyes.

Her face did look composed, but her eyes looked unfocused, like she wasn't entirely there. She was staring off into the distance, in that disconnected stare that came with looking at something that wasn't there.

"Umm… are you sure we're going the right way?" I asked.

Without any sort of warning, she stopped as if she hit a wall. I was completely sure that it wasn't intentional, from the way that she suddenly stopped.

And then she looked around, turning her head from side to side. I didn't understand the significance of that action at first,, but as she continued to look around, it dawned on me. She had been guiding us on autopilot, and didn't really pay attention to her surroundings.

Eventually, she decided that we were going the right way (which we were), and we continued. This story, though, served as a warning to me not to apply common sense to my dealings with any of the people here.

That lesson was reinforced when I met my employer.

"So, allow me to summarize, boss." I said, taking a deep breath and trying to remember all of the nonsensical things that had been said today.

We had met in the library, around a table that most people would associate with reading books at, with six other people next to you. There was a tea service in the middle of it, but I was never one for tea. Beside me was Leopold, looking his usual serious self, and across from me was my employer.

At a first glance, anyone would mistake her for a twelve-year old child rather than a five hundred plus year old vampire, but her actions belied her true age. For all her short stature, blue hair, frilly pink dress and mob cap, red eyes, and casual "bring-it-on" smile as her default expression, she pulled off the elegant lady attitude very well, making for a very strange impression of a matron trapped inside a child's body.

Then again, based on the way she only used her elegance to get what she wanted, it was possible that the elegance was just a habit, and childishness her true nature. A first meeting usually isn't enough to tell with these things.

Beside her was the librarian, who looked pale, sickly, and in my opinion should get out more. She was disinterestedly reading a modern-looking book with a title I didn't understand, so I didn't bother trying to get more information about it. She was dressed strangely, in a pink mantle over what looked like a nightgown under it, and a pink hat with a yellow crescent moon ornament on it. That only compounded her unbelievably strange purple hair and eyes, which were glazed over with disinterest right now.

Why wouldn't they be? She was the advisor, and the parley was done. As such, the scholar returns to their study.

"Basically, you want me to act as a guard for Leopold's brother who never learned how to fight, along with his wife who happens to be a vampire who's extremely powerful if prone to fits of madness." I said, summarizing the situation as I understood it. The little vampire across from me, my employer Remilia Scarlet, nodded. "Then I have to ask, with all the power you and your household possesses, why would you even need me as a personal guard?"

"Levant cannot fight, and I am not sure Flandre would have only 'fits of madness', as you put it, if he were to be harmed." The boss replied, with smooth, composed words. "Plus, the other powers here usually have other duties, or can be tied up." She said, and I recognized the tone of someone who was speaking from experience.

I decided not to pry.

"Point taken. But why would you take someone like me, who has far less power, in a situation where the utterly supernatural might happen?" I asked. It really didn't make any sense to get a normal person to do security when the powers-that-be outclass most squads of special forces.

"Because it is just as likely that something mundane will come up, and you will be the right man to fix it." She said, and her eyes moved over to Leopold, who returned her gaze, saying nothing.

_I get the feeling there's quite a bit of history here._ I thought. _I'll have to press Leopold later._

"In any case." She said, still looking at Leopold. "I asked specifically for a bodyguard with some kind of ability."

"He won't disappoint." Leopold replied.

"Then why don't I test him?" Remilia asked. "We'll see if your standards measure up to mine."

"If you really needed a bodyguard, it wouldn't make sense to beat him down first day on the job." I interjected. My boss responded immediately.

"I give my sister only the best." She replied. "It would be foolish of me to assume your quality, something that you should know well." It was a good response, logical, mature, complete.

But somehow I could not escape the feeling that she just wanted a fight. The gleam in her eyes reminded me of some of a child about to play with her toys.

I always had a soft spot for kids.

"I cannot refuse an order." I responded, standing from my chair. "Will there be any rules for this contest?"

"None." She responded, standing up. "Patch, is the library ready?" She said, referring to the purple-clad bookworm next to her.

She waved her right hand, in a seemingly innocuous gesture, and then nodded.

"Good." The boss said to herself, turning towards me. "Let's get this started."

She disappeared.

Out of pure instinct I jumped back, energy firing through my body randomly, strengthening all of me.

It was lucky that I did. A moment more in that position and I would have been torn apart by her hand, which would have put a quick end to my pride, my employment, and my life. A blur of pink rushed forth, the flesh-colored arm barely visible as it scythed through the air.

_Insane. _I thought to myself. _I can't match that._

I took another step behind me, to the bookcases, and twirled to the right, pushing my body against one of the shelves. The boss rushed past me in a blur, a pink shape with blue accents and a pair of huge, blue wings sticking out the back. In addition to this, instead of knocking over the bookcases, I felt as if I had hit a wall. Trusting this to be stable, I snapped my entire body towards the boss, who was now charging me after having overshot.

My right hand went to the ball bearings in my pocket. This was my trick for when I needed a stealth murder.

A shotgun blast that leaves no gunpowder residue, no ballistics, and is lethal enough to shred a man without any sort of physical evidence that leads to anything but the correct conclusion.

I drew out my right hand, full of ball bearings, and held it low. Coursing power through it, I raised my right hand in front of the boss and flicked my wrist, releasing the ball bearings as I forced power after them.

Due to her speed, the range was point-blank. The effect was unbelievable. I was sure a charge of that kind would not be completely stopped, so I threw myself to the right, onto the other wall created in front of the other bookcase.

The boss had staggered, but there was no blood, no damage. She was winded as she looked at me, amid the rain of steel ball bearings on a tiled floor. It was as if I had just punched her in the gut, but I knew from experience that that flick was as bad as a shotgun blast.

And to top it all off, she was grinning, looking at me, her face asking "Is that all you've got?"

She knew I couldn't hurt her. Or at least, that was what she thought.

_That's what she thinks, huh? Let's do some damage, then._ I took a deep breath, power surging through me.

"Not."

I know what I'm going to do. I unbuttoned my trench coat.

"At."

She's getting ready; she knows I'm about to attack her. Looks like she's going to meet me full-on, just like I thought she might. Perfect.

"All!" I yelled. Moving all of my strength into my legs, I jumped her, right arm outstretched. She caught my hand, and I used the same blast of energy as I did on her gate guardian, but with one small twist.

It was supposed to spin me to the left, which put my shoulder into perfect ramming position. Rocketing forward with my left leg, I tackled her in the body, which I could only do while off-balance because she was so short. She ended up in an L shape, her legs on the floor and her body on the bookcase. I used my left hand, sending it right for her body.

Smack. A clean hit. I felt her slacken a bit. I rolled off her and put my hands to the ground, putting me in the push-up position, and stood up.

She dusted herself off, stood up, and looked at me, then at Leopold.

"You don't disappoint." She said with a smirk. "You," she said, turning to me, "beat me like that again and you're fired."

"But you asked…" I responded, but was cut off immediately by "Who's the boss around here!?" She walked off in a huff, leaving the library.

Clearly she didn't take well to losing. I just couldn't figure out if she was a child or a lady.

"Should we wait for her?" I asked to the room in general.

"Probably." A girl responded, and I immediately turned to the purple-clad librarian. "Remi just loves playing games, even though she hates it when she loses."

"Oh." I replied, returning to my seat next to Leopold. _Anyway, on to different matters._ I thought, turning to Leopold. "What's the history between you two? I thought you were government-employed."

"Oh, that's a long story, my friend." He replied, without looking up.

"Remi's tantrums last that long." The librarian said. "Go on and tell him."

_Here's where you go if you want the story. I doubt Leopold would have the patience to tell it, even if I put words in his mouth: _ s/8477445/1/The-Scarlet-Queen-and-the-Rose-Cross


	6. A Pair of Chases

Idly, I pulled out a Beretta M92F from my trenchcoat. One of many weapons I possessed but never used much, it was still a dull black, used in order to aid in night stealth. The gleam of metal had killed more than one idiotic bounty hunter. I passed a corridor on my right, leading to a horizon of scarlet carpet and doors upon doors.

"Old houses are in a class of their own." I said, stopping to look up at the braziers on the wall, blazing flames in every one of them, ten feet above my head, my neck straining to look up at them. The corridors were long, and they gave the impression of never ending, the wavering light from the fires serving to enhance the feeling of being in an antique, a relic of the past.

"Or a prison." I said out loud. I sensed a presence nearby.

It is said that some people have a sixth sense, that they know things without necessarily knowing things. Without looking around, straining my ears, or even thinking about it, I knew someone was there. The closest thing I could say about it was that it was a hunter smelling his prey.

_Or a deer smelling a tiger._ I thought. The presence was in the corridor I had just passed, the perfect spot for someone coming from behind for an ambush. I stopped holding the pistol lightly and gripped it.

_Come on, I'm ready for you._ I thought, keeping myself facing away from the corridor, feet and waist poised to snap towards it if anything happened. _Here we go._ I thought.

My left foot moved to the side to step on the naked wood of the floor, to the side of the carpet, next to the wall that concealed the object of my suspicion. Following my right foot in a stalker's gait, landing as light as a cat, I stepped below the brazier I had been admiring a second ago, my pistol aimed at the corridor. I held my breath, not daring to make a single noise.

"Target situation uncertain." It was a voice, female, but monotone and robotic. "Calling for backup to investigate and eliminate target."

That line told me two things; the first was that I was being hunted. Nothing new there, I had been hunted for at least three years now, and I had evaded those pursuers.

The second, and by far the more dangerous, was that the enemy was coming for me in numbers. In long corridors like this, only rapid movement, staying concealed and uncertain, and quick elimination of the enemy would save me. I put power into my leg, the muscles feeling like pistons when I launched off the floor.

Without hesitation I rounded the corner, coming face-to-face with the enemy. She looked like a girl, blonde and wearing a long blue dress, and surprised in the instant before I swung my right arm, pistol gripped in it acting as a club and smashing her face in.

And then it exploded into ceramic porcelain, revealing green mists blasting out of the ruin of a head. Only my training stopped me from being rooted to the spot, keeping me running even as my mind locked up, wondering only one thing.

_What the hell was that?_

"Levant, why is it that the first floor of the East Wing is cut off today?" Flandre asked the boy stretched out on the lawn next to her, outside the shade of the oak tree she was under. The blonde vampire with the crystal-and-iron wings raised her arms, stretching them to their fullest extent before returning them to her lap.

"Patch is testing her new design for the guard dolls." Levant replied, his voice gaining some of the depth and assurance of age. A year in this strange world had done his maturity and confidence well, and although his clothes were just as they had ever been, simple collared shirts and slightly baggy pants, he no longer gave off the vibe of a completely helpless teenager. Hands behind his head, his entire body in the sun and looking up at the day's clear blue sky, he had learned to enjoy as well as agonize. "That's just how she is."

"She doesn't do anything but read books, so something like this should be great for her!" The vampire under the shade of the tree responded, shifting the parasol at her side a little to match the angle of the sun. "It's good to get fired up once in a while." She gave a smile as Levant turned to face her, shaded by the leaves of the oak on the lawn.

"I guess you'd know how great it is to get fired up," Levant said smugly, "seeing as you end up getting into fights and forgetting about me all the time." He said, feigning hurt. "And to think we had a ceremony, too."

"Oh, that's just cruel!" She squealed. "You're so unfair!" She shouted. "Come over here under the shade so I can teach you a lesson!"

"And what if I don't?" Levant asked, his true grin breaking out from under the façade of a straight face. "Then what?"

"Then I come out after you!" The girl replied, getting up and spinning her parasol into a perfect covering position. "Even if I'm running with this, I can still catch you!"

And as the playful chase on the lawn began, a far less merry game of cat-and-mouse continued inside the corridors of the mansion.

"Good worksmanship really makes a difference!" I whispered to myself as I waited, back flat to the wall. On my right, a bookcase, on my left, a wooden door, the one that I had just shut silently. "Took me this long to shake them!" I continued, raising the M92F up to my eyes, training it on the door. On the wall opposite the one I was flat against was a rack full of maces. Why there were only maces I couldn't tell, but there they were.

I've been chased around by a lot of people. Soldiers, paid ruffians, police, but never had I seen pursuers who could fly, had near-perfect coordination, and all looked the same.

_As to be expected from a line of guard dolls._ I thought to myself. _That's what the future of perimeter defense looks like._ _So far, their only real flaw's that they telegraph their moves, but that's probably a fail-safe if they're around any actual member of the family._ _It also looks like they've got three types; a black-and-white laser shooting idiot type, a dollmistress type that goes crazy if you blow up a single one of her scouts, and a purple librarian type that shoots out lots of magic._

I stopped thinking and strained my ears again. The little sound that had triggered my total mental stop was small, soft, easily looked over, but it was there.

And the step of little shoes on the wood could only mean that one of the little doll-drones was headed for the door I was hiding behind.

_Yep, they're much more thorough than any human patrol would be._ I thought, nodding silently. I had been able to run away from them simply because they had thoroughly searched every room and corridor. They had the twin advantages of time and numbers, the two things that most undermined special operations.

_I need to end this. Right now._ I thought, and so I waited.

I waited for the little doll tottering outside to open the door and come in after me, so that I could crush it with the heel of my shoe.

"Game over, Leopold." She said. "That doll's found him, and he has nowhere to run." The purple librarian said, but instead of having a book in front of her as when we left her, she was watching the chase in the East Wing through a crystal ball, one of nine lined up in front of her. Each showed a different viewpoint from the different doll squad leaders, through which the librarian could control every action the dolls took. They had sealed off every corridor from the room they had ascertained the enemy was in with numbers, preparing for the final push. Although their faces remained impassive, there was a sense of impending victory here, the certainty that they would prevail.

Across her, the special operative merely smiled. "I suppose you do have him in your trap." He replied. "The boy was a fool to fall for it, no matter how well you played your part."

"Such faith." She replied, with only a hint of a smirk on her face. "Well, we'll yet see if any surprises await us."

"Yes, well, 'who dares wins'." Leopold replied.

"I thought you didn't like the SAS." The librarian said.

"Paying your opponent proper respect is what wins battles." Leopold said, smiling. "You'd do well to remember that."

He pointed towards one of the crystal balls, where the feed from one of the dolls had been cut off completely.

"I didn't hear anything happen!" Patchouli shouted, genuinely shocked for the first time in a while. "Dolls, report!"

"Target is escaping corral. Through unknown means he wiped out an entire squad at once."

It was a good thing I slammed the door into that doll, because when it hit the opposite wall it proceeded to explode with a deafening roar.

_For the love of God._ I thought. _If I had anything like that I could…_

_Wait._

_Maybe I do._

I looked up and saw the maces, the simple straight iron rods with a deadly ball at the end, meant for crushing. I didn't question why they looked so well-maintained. What did I know, having only been here a day?

_Luck is on my side today._ I said, and began to stuff them into my coat, putting them wherever they would fit. I knew that after the shock of the doll exploding, they would take advantage of the moment and rush in immediately, using the weight of their numbers and strength to take me down. I took one of the maces and positioned myself directly opposite the door, pouring power into my arms and legs.

"Come and get me." I said. As if on cue, I heard the twang of the dolls using their magic, like a distortion that rippled towards the caster, like the world was feeding them with power. Although today was the first time I had ever experienced it, it was already a familiar opponent. Without thinking about it, I recited my personal credo, the one thing that had remained with me my whole life.

"_In risks, death. In victory, risks. In death, victory. To live is to sacrifice; to preserve our sacrifices requires risks, and there we see death._"

Hefting the mace in my right hand, I threw it at the door, one-handed, using only enough power to make it fly straight as a dart. I didn't need the throw to be strong.

I only needed it to distract. Using the strength in my legs, I kicked off of the ground, rushing right after the weapon I had thrown. The weapon hit the leader, who had been standing smack in the middle of her squad, and sailed through the scorched hole left by the explosion that had happened just before.

Now they had to worry about me, following on the heels of the mace, with a left hand full of iron ball bearings. Swinging my hand in a wide arc and splaying my hand to spread out the bullet, I blasted the squad with a cone of pellets that smashed through bodies, pierced heads, and released more magical energy in the air, energy that revitalized me as I breathed it in.

"Right." I said, smiling slightly. "Time to move."

Reaching into my coat for another mace, I started running. I remembered that the corridor I was had windows on the right, three intersections away.

There was no time to waste. I kicked off, taking the right ten meters down the hall. I heard it then, coming from the direction I was going as I started to get into the pace of the run.

"Target is escaping corral. Through unknown means wiped out entire squad at once."

_That'll be "target has escaped" soon enough!_

Using the energy in my right arm, I hurled the mace down the corridor and started to run after it, taking out another one with my left arm and pulling out my Beretta with my right.

"Let's dance, ladies!"

Leopold indicated the fourth crystal ball from Patchouli's right, Squad 5's. Assigned to the southeastern corridor perimeter, they were the closest roadblock to the window.

"Keep an eye on this one." He said. "If there's one thing this guy's good at, it's getting out of sticky situations." Patchouli looked at which one he was pointing at, and then smirked."

"He's not going to get away from there." She had intentionally reinforced Squad 5 to include twelve dolls rather than the standard eight. They were also veterans of the last combat action against Leopold, and so their self-learning magical circuit would teach them how to deal with both guns and melee weapons. Smiling, she leaned back in her chair and gave Leopold a glance that practically read "I win".

Leopold shrugged and they continued to watch the feed. After a few seconds, it began.

The dolls, previously lined up across the width of the corridor, moved to accommodate the mace, which flew like a blur right above their heads. Patchouli brought up the images from the surveillance sigil on the corridor onto the crystal ball for the knocked-out squad. The dolls were spread out in three diamonds, no two sides being right behind one another, each diamond smaller than the last.

It was only a second before a pair of braziers flew towards them but hit the carpets, setting the scarlet rug ablaze.

"Target acquired!" One of them yelled before a black blur approached it and smashed its head off. The black shape changed direction as a silver blur split itself from it, flying wildly into the corridor. Without wasting time, the remaining eleven began to chant magical spells.

"It's over, Leopold." She said, smirking. "He's trapped."

"We'll see." He said evenly.

"Yes, that's it." I said. After knocking out the first one, I was sure that they would train all of their attacks on me. Being magical opponents, they would not dare run into melee with me.

_Perfect._ I thought, and stopped in the middle of the corridor. Closing my eyes, I waited.

"He's given up." Patchouli said. "You picked the wrong man for the job."

"We'll see." He replied.

The magical barrage blasted the corridor. Torrents of fire that burned the wallpaper and scorched the braziers, beams of light that burned all they came into contact with, spikes of earth that rose from the floor, and myriad other spells blasted the small space into oblivion.

_And now, we move._

With my eyes closed I could sense the moment they would blast me. There could be no hesitation in this movement. Power surged through my legs and arms.

They fired. I had no hesitation. I poured all of my strength into my legs. The moment the deafening roar of the numerous spells I didn't see began I jumped.

And while in midair I used all the power I had, kicking off and accelerating horizontally.

The boom behind me told me that my plan had been a complete success.

The crystal ball linked to the leader of Squad 5 went black. The last things that were recorded were the jump and the deafening roar, and then it was all over.

"That's the kind of monster I gave you." Leopold said. "He's clever, he's crazy, and he's damned good at his job." With that, he finally allowed himself a smile.

Patchouli just stared.

_Yes, flying at supersonic speeds and not dying of G-forces, all the blood rushing to my head, or getting my skin flayed off by the speed of my movement is nice, but I think I should put on the brakes now!_

Not a second too soon, I stopped in front of the window. Popping myself back up with a bit of magic, I saw the green fields and blue skies right outside, and it was breathtaking, a lot like a postcard. My right hand had already reached for the handle on the four-segment window that was actually a double door of glass.

"It's a wonderful day." I said, climbing out of the tall window to see the sunshine. Closing the window behind me, I decided I'd take a stroll.

They were both under the shade of the tree now, tired and done with running, but with grins that stretched from ear to ear.

"I hope… that teaches you… not to mess with me!" Flandre said indignantly, between huffs and pants.

"No…" Levant replied, similarly tired. "This just… proves… my point… that you get fired up too much!"

"Mmm!" The girl puffed out her cheeks and sat up. "Fine!" She said, taking the parasol lying to her right and opening it. "I'm going home!"

"Too… much… energy…. Hey, why'd you stop?" Levant asked, slowly getting his lungs full of air again.

"I just saw someone come out of the house and I don't know him." Flandre replied matter-of-factly. "He's just looking up at the sky now." She said, wondering what staring up at the sky would do.

"Let's go talk to him." Levant said, standing up. "Wonder who he is."

"Yeah, let's." She said, her voice suddenly sinking. Although she was usually the relaxed one, she still had some trouble dealing with people who she didn't already know. This left most of the out-of-house interaction to Levant and the other inhabitants of the house.

Taking her hand in his, Levant led the way towards the relaxed stranger.


End file.
